


Two Four-Topping Personal Pizzas, Extra Cheese?

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Cute, Established Relationship, Food Kink, Lab Sex, Laboratories, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pizza, food denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 20:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Strip please, and leave it on the stool.” Mikey was standing as he spoke, movements unconscious in the face of the unwavering command in Donnie’s voice.





	Two Four-Topping Personal Pizzas, Extra Cheese?

“Hey dude.”

  
“Hey.”

  
Silence in the lab again and the rasp of Mikey’s foot wraps on the stone floor as he stepped in further, uninvited. In turn, the squeak of the ancient salvaged stool he swiftly swung his bulk onto, was shouting-loud. Donnie was still typing, so Mikey kicked his heels, hands braced on the plastic of the seat beneath him. He wanted to try a handstand on it. One-handed. Maybe he could do it with his tongue...?

  
What he really wanted was for Donnie to save whatever amazing stuff he was doing, and turn around but he knew better than to interrupt.

  
He was thinking about attempting a two-fingered handstand (difficult, but still definitely doable) when Donnie finally spoke.

  
“Do you remember the safe word?”

  
Mikey’s feet froze, the backs of his thighs meeting the edge of the table without a sound. Donnie still wasn’t looking at him, and they _couldn’t_ be starting. They’d never started anything like _this_.

  
He had to swallow before he could answer.

  
“Yes.”

  
His voice was high and loud, but Donnie didn’t move, not even to look at him, his face focused on the monitor. He’d never asked to be addressed by a name or title, unlike all the leathered dudes Mikey had seen online, headphones in on his laptop, at 3 a.m. He didn’t mind. Sometimes, the way Donnie made him feel when they did this, it was easier to have nothing to shout, no one to beg.

  
“Strip please, and leave it on the stool.”

  
Mikey was standing as he spoke, movements unconscious in the face of the unwavering command in Donnie’s voice. As far as Michelangelo knew Don had never wanted to lead, but after the first time they’d done this, Mikey knew he could. He thought Don probably just... didn’t want to. That he was selfish enough, and maybe smart enough to not want the responsibility.

  
It certainly wasn’t a lack of capability stopping him, because the simple assertion in his voice had Mikey’s hands already bared, the white cloth spooling on the ground at his feet. His knee wraps were next, the padding falling away. Then his foot wraps, his stiff movements loud in the humming silence of Donnie’s lab. He stood, surrounded by discarded ribbon, and marveled at how naked it had already made him feel, his palms strangely sensitive when they brushed his fingers.

  
He paused, peering at Don’s unmoving back.

  
“Keep going.” Donnie sounded impatient, so Mikey tried to hurry, his leather bands dropping onto the tile with a clunk. He let his hands drop to his sides, holding totally still while he waited for another command. It was a while before he spoke again.

  
“Your mask.” And his voice this time was gentle enough to make Mikey flush. He snatched his mask free, tossing it across a screen that scrolled though a variety of video feeds.

  
A real pause then, as Donnie punched in what seemed to be the last few lines of whatever he was typing, the screen clearing and closing as he finished. He still hadn’t turned around though, and it took Mikey a second to realize he’d moved on to mouse-clicking. He wanted to groan, wanted to stamp his feet, or at least do that handstand while he waited, but they’d started now and that meant Mikey had to follow the rules. Rules that said he could only answer questions, follow orders or say the safeword.

  
And Donnie hadn’t asked him any questions.

  
Which meant Mikey was going to stay silent.

  
He never knew what to do with his hands without a nunchaku.

  
After what felt like an eternity, Don spun slowly to face him, and Mikey could feel his cheeks flushing against the weight of that stare. Serious brown eyes examining the entirety of his bared form where he stood at the back of the lab. Mikey swallowed again into the silence.

  
“Good.” Don said finally, and Mikey felt his face burn again, embarrassed at the rush the simple approval gave him. Don’s approval was hard to win and felt harder to keep: in the dojo, or here in the lab... or _here_ , in the lab, waiting for each order to come. Donnie looked so relaxed, big hands easy on thick olive green thighs. He was still fully dressed, and that made Mikey feel anxious again, but the good kind of anxious. Fidgety, like when he was about to master a new step in training, or top Raph’s pinball score.

  
Anticipatory.

  
“You should lay down.”

  
Mikey nodded, eyes still fixed on Don’s face, rewarded when he got to see the beginnings of a smile at his easy compliance before he flung himself onto the table. It was cool under his shell, the smooth counter top making him slip and wiggle.

  
Donnie had turned around, rummaging in the foot locker under his desk. Mikey knew most of what was in the footlocker, but Donnie was naturally inventive, and he couldn’t help but try to see what he was choosing. He came back up with full hands, and Mikey shivered. A gag, cuffs, and a coil of nylon rope-but he still didn’t know what he had planned and the possibilities left him tense, slowly stiffening under his shell.

  
He held still as Donnie approached him. He wanted to kiss him, wanted to rub the smooth skin of their beaks together, until Donnie was panting.

  
“Lay back, Mikey.” Donatello encouraged, pressing him flat with cool, steady hands. Mikey went, trying not to cross his eyes while he checked to make sure the bulge in his lower plastron wasn’t super obvious.

  
It was.

  
Donnie slipped his mouth open, sliding in a thick, textured rubber ball, the wide straps pressing stiffly into the sides of his face, the corners of his mouth. He wouldn’t be eating any super spicy nachos for a while, but that was a small sacrifice for this. And hey, he still had pizza. The strap secured behind his head with a small snap, and his gaze jerked to D’s face, a clinical interest in his brother’s gaze. He could already feel saliva building in his mouth, as he ran his tongue over the smooth tasteless silicone.

  
“Now your hands.” Donnie murmured, his voice the same soothing monotone he used when they were injured. Mikey had heard it through strep throat, and skinned knees, and just before getting his shoulder popped back in the time Raph had dared him to ride his skate board down the fire escape rails. This was definitely a nicer circumstance, and Mikey hummed into his gag, stretching as Donnie stroked his arms, smoothing and pressing with his cold, clever hands, until Mikey was sleepy and waiting under his touch.

  
He bound his hands over his head, pulling his plastron tight, and he was super obvious now, lower plates spreading to reveal the soft folded slot that hid his cock. He tried to scooch higher on the table, but Donnie placed a hand on his belly, fingers pressing down firmly to halt his movements. His hand rose and fell with to Mikey’s breath until he nodded, giving understanding of the tacit command now that he had been muted by the gag.

  
Finally the rope, and Donnie left it coiled in his hand for long seconds while he just looked at Mikey, spread out across his work table. When he finally moved, trailing a hand up Mikey’s calf, he couldn’t help but shudder, the movement rocking his shell loudly against the table, and Don let out a low churr, picking up intensity when Mikey matched it, their voices blending, bleeding together. Don leaned in to kiss him, softly, sweetly. It made Mikey churr again, his chest tight, but Donnie just pulled back leaving him to bind his legs. Soft loops trapping his calves to his thighs, leaving the only comfortable position that of his legs spread wide.

  
He was bound open, exposed, the soft entrance normally hidden by his tail now spot-lit in fluorescent. He tried to curl his tail upwards, but Don reached down, letting the stub curl around his wrist before pressing the soft swelling appendage flat to the table. Mikey tried to obey, tried to keep his tail flat, even as it too swelled and stiffened with his arousal.

  
“You’re so eager.” Donnie whispered, his thumb rubbing a warm circle across where he was the most exposed, the most open and Mikey squirmed. He was majorly eager. He loved watching Donnie’s serious expression as he lost himself in Mikey’s pleasure and restraint as thoroughly as he did into a line of code, or a mutagen experiment.

  
It calmed some part of him that sought so desperately to be seen.

  
Another slow, gentle rub of his thumb, and Mikey whimpered as cold air hit the head of his cock. He was peeking out from between the slit plating on his lower abdomen, the head wet and twitching.

  
“You were doing so well.” Don sounded disappointed, but he still watched closely as Mikey got perversely harder, his cock slowly blooming from his shell, slow jerks of muscle shiny wet with fluid under the bald light of Don’s sterile lighting. He tossed his head to the side, feeling drool run down his cheek. He _had_ been doing really well, and now he could feel his eyes burn and prickle at his failure. The sudden influx of emotion did nothing to stop the steady rise of his cock, and he gasped as he slipped unaided to throb over his belly.

  
Now he was going to get punished for sure, and he whined at the thought.

  
“You know what that means.” Donnie said teasingly and the simple pleasure in his voice was hard to ignore. It made Mikey toss him a wounded look, his stiff prick jerking at just the idea of some unnamed torment at Donnie’s hands. He stood, hand trailing over and off his skin slowly. The ‘stay still’ went unspoken.

  
He walked to his desk, and Mikey smelled it before he saw it, but he still groaned when the personal pizza box was revealed. Delivered definitely, probably this morning while Mikey was still scrubbing dishes for saying Leo and Raph fought each other more than the Foot.

  
Which was true, but it was also true he probably didn’t need to shout it. Sure, blame the little guy. Donnie pulled the lid open slowly, making a show of licking his lips and Mikey whined, arms pulling at their hold uselessly, cock bobbing from the motion.

  
“White sauce.” D said, and Mikey groaned softly. “Cheese, mushrooms, pepperoni, pineapple.”

  
He paused and his eyes met Mikey’s, lips spread in a smile.

  
“ _Marshmallow_.”

  
Mikey inhaled, the sound muted and wet behind the gag. Donnie paused, and held his face over the open cardboard, as though imbibing that sweet, sweet pizza essence.

  
The lid fell back closed as he carried it over, and Donnie paused to drag a stool over with him, legs dragging on the floor. He seemed unaffected by Mikey’s eagerness, as he settled onto the stool comfortably. After he was seated, he jiggled the box for a few seconds, while Mikey thought about ice cream, swordfish and how much he wanted Don’s mouth right now in quick succession, before he brightened.

  
“I know...” He murmured, and Michelangelo groaned again. He wanted to kick his legs in frustration, and instead he was struggling to just control his breathing to something even and steady as Donnie slid two fingers under the low, hanging curve of his cock and lifted it precisely high enough to slide the open pizza box under him.

  
The box was a steady warmth on his sensitive plastron, moistening the red, swollen head of his cock with steam. It smelled mouth-wateringly good, and he’d be drooling over it if he wasn’t already. He whimpered, and Don smiled at him. As though Mikey had spoken, he reached over with a single grease-stained napkin from the box and wiped the spit from his chin and neck. The casual possession in the gesture made Mikey shudder, the napkin rough and impersonal on his overheated skin.

  
Donnie ate the first slice slowly, bite by bite and then the second the same way. He licked his fingers as he went, picking toppings off and dropping them into his mouth. He smacked his lips. On a normal night he’dve eaten the whole pizza in two bites, maybe three but this wasn’t about speed, never had been.

  
This was about want, and oh how Mikey _wanted_. It was as though that slick cheese was coating _his_ tongue, hot bursts of sauce and pineapple juice squirting as _he_ chewed.

  
“You seem hungry.” Donnie said, and Mikey groaned, a hoarse broken sound his throat, dry from the constant flow of air sucked greedily around the gag. “Did you want a bite?”

  
Mikey nodded, his head shaking his whole body along with it, but Donnie wasn’t looking at him, his gaze focused on the screen across the room. He knew, _he knew_ , but his hand just patted Mikey’s leg, making him whine again when Don’s wrist brushed the sticky head of him. He picked up the final piece of pizza, making Mikey’s stomach feel light and empty in two ways. When he did turn around, his smile was wicked and Mikey watched in real horror as he stuffed every bit of the last slice into his mouth, chewing noisily before gulping.

  
“Oops, too late now.” Donnie said complacently, as Mikey vibrated with frustration, his body a wriggling mess of denial and need. His cock leaked, puddling pre-cum into a box of crumbs.

  
Crumbs that he _could’ve_ licked up, but Donnie took the box away, sliding it onto another table top, out of sight behind Michelangelo’s head. His hand was back almost immediately, a finger smoothing up the heated length of him and he was so sensitive, laying there spread and bound for Don to use, on display like a sample on a slide. Mikey could feel his muscles tensed in response to Don’s slow, stuttering caress, the rough work pads of his fingers catching in the natural slickness of his cock.

  
“You okay?”

  
The words seemed to come from farther away than Donnie-smart, comforting Donnie and that made Mikey jerk his eyes away from where he’d been watching Don’s fingers pet him. He needed to focus. He didn’t want to get punished twice, even if the last one had been _so good_.

  
Don reached up and the gag loosened all at once with a soft snick. His jaw was too sore to release the thick ball, and he had to push wetly at it with his tongue, until it popped free. Though not the first time this had happened, Donnie made no move to help, not even when the gag rolled down his chest, and off the table, a trail of spit and the ache in his jaw it’s only footprints. He just watched, eyes intent as they took him in. And then, after a moment, Don’s cool fingers soothing the ache of his jaw.

  
“That feels so good, bro.” Mikey murmured, his voice spaced out, his whole body relaxing into the tight restraints, as the rush of relief from Donnie’s skilled touches flooded his body with endolphins. Or something. Don had explained it one time, but he’d been mostly upside down, and had Don’s cock down his throat so he’d had other things to think about.

  
“Good.” Don said warmly. The hand pulled away slowly, but Mikey left his eyes closed anyway. If Don wanted them open, he’d tell him, and Mikey loved the straightforwardness of this thing they had. No guessing, or misinterpreting. No overthinking. His thighs burned from the efficient ties binding him, and his shoulders ached from the angle, but he mostly felt... good. He let the moment fall over him, sinking into the strength of the bonds that kept him tied to the here and now. It was the closest he got to the emptiness in his head that Sensei always talked about during meditation, and when Donnie’s mouth slid over his cock, his whole body stiffened in shock. The sensation made Mikey rock forward on his shell, a small sound ripped from him.

  
“Oh.” He whimpered, and Don pulled away with a pop, his lips already shiny. The thought made Mikey feel nuts, even as he bit down on his tongue, desperate not to make another noise. Being quiet, being still, those were permanent rules, always to be followed while they were playing. Mikey thought Don liked that they were _so hard_ not to break, but Mikey tried anyway. Tried hard to please Don, even knowing that, really? Don wanted him to fail. He wanted to watch Mikey’s eyes as he licked the last smear of grease from his lip, and see what it did to him. Wanted to watch Mikey stay so helplessly hard even while he did it.

  
Donnie reached down and wrapped a tight, three-fingered grip around Mikey’s tail, the deep seated pleasure making a shiver shake his shell. He jerked the wriggling appendage, fingers firm, like he was handling a different part of Mikey’s anatomy. He could feel his tail stiffening, the soft loose skin tightening in answer to Donnie’s tight practiced massage.

  
And then his finger brushed against Mikey’s grasping opening, left previously ignored, and Mikey moaned, his voice loud in the particular stillness of Don’s lab.

  
“Sorry, I’m sorry Donnie, I’m-” He babbled, but Don just shook his head, hand still squeezing and _squeezing_ at Mikey’s tail, like he wanted to watch him pop.

  
“You’re so good.” Donnie said, and Mikey felt his tail try to wag at the approval in Donnie’s voice. His eyes were warm where he watched Mikey rock and jerk against his bonds. And then he leaned down, and Mikey kept his eyes open this time, drinking the awkward grace in the curve of his neck and shell as Donnie bent his lanky form over his midsection. That sweet, serious mouth slipped back over him with familiar ease, Mikey’s bound legs framing him. The tails of his mask trailed over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs with every bob of his head, and it had been seconds and Mikey was gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut against the feel.

  
‘Don’t come until you’re told’ was another unspoken rule, and Mikey was pretty sure he was about to break it.

  
Donnie lapped at him like he was dessert, and Mikey was a hungry, needy mess. He wondered if he tasted like pizza from the steam, and then he wondered if Don would even be able to tell since he’d just eaten the pizza, and then he wondered if Don was going to let him come in his mouth, or oh jeez, _on his face_ , and the thought was so incensing that a spurt of come striped across Donnie’s outstretched tongue.

  
“Donnnie...” Mikey whined, and then he churred, the sound ripping itself from his throat, and Don’s answering churr was a loud rumble, a hissing vibration along the sensitive head of his cock, and he was gonna to come, he was gonna come everywhere, a fucking mess.

  
“Go ahead, do it.” Donnie said, and he sounded breathless, and then Mikey was coming, cock spurting neatly into Don’s open mouth, while his body shook apart, only bound together at the hands and legs. His mind went blank, a pure emptiness at the moment of his orgasm, and Mikey stared slack-jawed at the ceiling, until Donnie flicked him on the forehead.

  
“Hey, dork.” He said, and Mikey grinned at him, still a little loopy, and then pulled free, letting his eyes close as he rolled back, his weary tongue licking at the sore corners of his mouth. He made an appealing picture still bound to himself, his body relaxed, rocked back on his shell. His cock was a wilted flower between his legs, skin still softly engorged with blood, keeping him plump. His tail just a warm coil between his legs, and when Donnie leaned forward again, stroking a finger along it’s length, the tip curled toward him. Lazy and loving, like the turtle it belonged to, and the thought made Donatello smile.

  
“Do you want me to let you out now?”

  
Mikey laughed, a wild, unbridled sound. Just joy ringing in the air, and then he stretched, the motion rippling his body along the length of Donnie’s work space. His skin was a rich green against the black counter tops, and as he flexed the rope bit into the defined muscles in his calves and thighs, the image making Donnie inhale.

  
“Sure.” He looked at Donnie, and then looked a little lower, licking at his lips. “You want me to let _you_ out, bro?”

  
Donnie shook his head, eyes warm on Mikey’s relaxed form as he began the careful process of unknotting his art. It was one of the few times he ever saw his brother this relaxed, this still and Donnie enjoyed it. Devoid of the manic, restless energy that normally drove him, Mikey and Donnie co-existed within a comfortable bubble of silence. This relationship they had formed served as an excellent outlet of tensions for him, and if Mikey benefited equally, even better.

  
He freed his legs first, before standing up and releasing his hands. Mikey took his time rising to a seated position, and then another few seconds before he swinging his legs, heels pounding the base of the table.

  
“We needed to feed you instead.” Don explained, and Michelangelo’s eyes went wide as he stepped away, only to return with a full pizza box.

  
“Even the marshmallows?” Mikey chirped, and Donnie nodded indulgently, handing the box over into his grasping hands. “Dude, you’re the best!”

  
He was already stuffing a piece into his mouth all at once, cheeks swollen, eyes creased with bliss. Donnie reached out, hand cupping his chin, feeling the strong motion of his jaw as he chewed in his palm. It felt amazingly similar to the repetitive motion of Mikey swallowing his cock, and Donnie could feel his mouth watering.

  
“Maybe I am still hungry.” He said musingly, and Mikey laughed, spraying cheese everywhere.

  
“Dude, you just ate a _whole_ pizza!”

**Author's Note:**

> "Wise man say: 'Forgiveness is divine, but never pay [full price](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/) for a late pizza.'"  
> — Michelangelo, _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990)_


End file.
